On the night of the fifth Nell sang softly to herself as she stood
before the glass putting the last touches to her, toilet. She was
brimming over with happiness, and as she looked at the radiant
reflection she wondered whether her lover would be satisfied. It is the
question which every woman who loves asks herself. It is for the man of
her heart that she lives and has her being; it is that she may find
favor in his sight that she brushes the hair he has kissed; it is with
the hope that his eye may be caught, his fancy pleased, that she puts
the flower at her bosom or winds the filmy lace around her neck. And it
was of Drake--Drake--Drake--she thought and dreamed as she turned from
the glass and went down the stairs.
She had heard the wheels of the fly he had procured from Shallop, and
she found him in the little hall waiting for her.
He looked up at the lovely vision with startled admiration, for hitherto
he had only seen her in week-a-day attire; and this slight, graceful
form, clad in soft white, seemed so pure, so virginal and ethereal,
that, not for the first time, his joy in her loveliness was tempered
with awe.
"Nell!" was all he could say, and he stretched out his arms, then let
them fall. "I should crush you or break you," he said, half seriously.
"Is that the dress I saw you making up--that! It looked like----"
"A rag," she finished for him, her eyes shining down upon him with a
woman's gratitude for his admiration. "Will it do? Do I look--passable?"
"No," he said; "no one could pass you! Nell, my angel--yes, you are like
an angel to-night!" he broke off, in lower tones. "You--you frighten me,
dearest. I dread to see you spread your wings and fly away from me."
She laughed shyly and shook her head.
"And--and--how different you look!" she said; for it was the first time
she had seen Drake in the costume which we share with the waiter; and
her pride in him--in his tall figure and square shoulders--glowed in her
eyes. If he had been lame and halt she would have still loved him;
but--well, there is no woman who is not proud of her sweetheart's good
looks. Sometimes she is prouder of them than of her own.
"Let me put this wrap around you," he said; and as he did so she raised
her head with a blush and an invitation in her eyes, and he kissed her
on the lips. "See here, dearest," he said, "your first dance! And as
many as you will give me afterward. Did I ever mention that I was
jealous? Nell, I inform you of the gruesome fact now; and that I shall
endure agonies every time I see you dancing with another man."
"Perhaps you will be spared that pain," she said. "I may be a
wallflower, waiting for you to take pity on me."
"Yes, I should think that very probable," he retorted ironically. "Oh,
Nell, how I love you, how proud----"
Dick came out of the dining room at that moment, and at sight of Nell
fell back against the wall in an assumed swoon.
"Is it--can it be--the simple little fishergirl of Shorne Mills? My
aunt, Nell, you do look a swell! Got 'em all on, Drake, hasn't she?
Miss Eleanor Lorton as Cinderella! Kiss your brother, Nell!"
He made a pretended rush at her with extended arms, and Nell shrieked
apprehensively:
"Keep him off, Drake! He'll crush my dress! Dick--Dick, you dare!"
Dick winked at Drake.
"You are requested not to touch the figure. Drake, have you observed and
noticed this warning? But so it is in this world! One man may kiss this
waxwork, while another isn't permitted to lay a finger on it. Now, are
we going to the Maltbys' dance, or have you decided to remain here and
spoon? And hasn't any one a word of approval for this figure? Between
you and me, Drake, I rather fancy myself to-night. I do hope I shan't
break any young thing's heart, for I'm not--I really am not--a marrying
man. Seen too much of the preliminary business with other people, you
know."
They got into the fly, laughing, and Drake, as they drove along,
compared this departure for a simple country dance with his past
experiences. How seldom had he gone to a big London crush without
wishing that he could stay at home and smoke or read!
"Remember," he whispered to Nell, as they alighted at the Grange, "your
first dance and as many as you can give me!"
One or two other carriages set down at the same time, and they entered
the hall, a portion of a small crowd, so that Lady Maltby, a buxom,
smiling lady of the good old type of the country baronet's wife, had
only time to murmur a few words; and Drake passed on with Nell on his
arm.
As they went up the room, a dance started, and he drew Nell aside, and
standing by her, looked round curiously and a trifle apprehensively. But
there was no person whom he knew, and Sir William, who came up to them,
had even got Drake's name wrongly.
"Glad to see you, Miss Lorton. Dear, dear! how the young ones do grow!
Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Verney Blake, and to congratulate
you. I think I've met a relative of yours--an uncle, I fancy----"
Drake's face grew expressionless in an instant.
--"Sir Richard--or--was it Sir Joseph--Blake? He took the first for
shorthorns in seventy-eight."
Drake drew a sigh of relief.
"No relation of mine, Sir William, I regret," he said.
"No? Same name, too. Funny! But there are a good many Blakes. So you're
going to run off with the belle of Shorne Mills, eh? Lucky fellow!"
With a chuckle he ambled off to his wife, to be sent to some one else,
and Drake bent to Nell.
"Come!" was all he said, and he put his arm round her. The floor was
good, the band from the garrison town knew its business, and Nell----Was
he surprised that she should dance so well? Was not every ordinary
movement of hers graceful? But the fact that she could dance like an
angel, as he put it to himself, did not make his love for her any the
less or his pride in her diminish, be certain. He himself had been the
best dancer in his regiment, and this, his first waltz with the girl he
adored, sent the blood spinning through his veins.
"Aren't we in step rather--nicely?" she whispered, trying to speak
casually, but failing utterly; for the joy that throbbed in her heart
made it impossible for her to keep her voice steady. "Oh, Drake, I--I
was afraid that I might not be able to dance, it is so long--ever so
long--since----Why, this is my first real ball, and I am dancing with
you! And how well you waltz! But you have danced so often--this is not
your first ball!"
He glanced at her with a pang of uneasiness, but her eyes shone up at
him innocent of any other meaning than the simplest one, innocent of any
doubt of him, any question of his past.
"He would be a rank duffer who couldn't dance with you, Nell," he said.
Her hand tightened on his with the faintest pressure, and she closed her
eyes with a happy sigh.
"If it could only go on forever!" was her thought; and she prayed that
no other man might want her to dance, for a long time.
She would have liked to sit out the dances she could not have with
Drake, to sit and watch him. And she would not be jealous. Why should
she be? Was he not her very own, her sweetheart, the man who loved her?
The waltz came to an end all too soon, and as Drake led her to a seat,
young Maltby approached her with two young fellows. She was the
prettiest girl in the room, though she was the simplest dressed, and the
men were anxious to secure her.
Drake hastily scribbled his initials on several lines of her program,
then had to resign her to her next partner, and, in discharge of his
duty, seek a partner for himself.
Lady Maltby introduced him to a daughter of a local squire, a fresh
young girl, with all a country girl's frankness.
"What a pretty girl that was with whom you were dancing!" she said, as
they started. "She is really lovely!"
"And yet they say that women never admire each other," he remarked.
"Do you mean that?" she asked, looking up at him with her frank, blue
eyes. "What nonsense! I love to see a pretty woman; and I quite looked
forward to coming here to-night, because we are to have a famous London
beauty."
"Oh! Which one?" asked Drake absently; his eyes were following Nell, who
happened to look across at him at the moment, and who smiled the smile
which a woman only accords her lover.
"I don't remember her name," said the girl. "But she is very beautiful,
I am told; though I find it hard to believe that she can be lovelier
than she is," and she nodded in Nell's direction.
Drake felt very friendly toward the girl.
"She is as good as she is beautiful," he said; then, as the triteness
and significance of the words struck him, he laughed slightly.
His partner glanced up at him shyly.
"Oh--I beg your pardon!" she said. "I didn't know. How--how proud you
must be!"
"I am," said Drake.
"And of course you want to be dancing with her now? If I were you I
should hate to have to dance with any one else. I wish--you would
introduce me to her after this waltz!"
"With pleasure!" said Drake, wondering what on earth the girl's name
was--for, of course, he had not caught it.
But the introduction was not made, for her next partner came up
immediately the dance was finished and bore her off; and Drake leaned
against the wall and watched Nell.
She was dancing with a subaltern from the garrison town, and was
evidently enjoying herself. It was a pleasure to him to look at her; and
it occurred to him that even if the bright little American, with the
pleasant voice and tender heart, had not stepped in to ruin his
prospects; if the title and estates were as near to him as they had been
a few months ago; if he were moving in London society, in his own
critical and exclusive set, he would not have made any mistake in asking
Nell to be his wife. She would have justified his choice in any society,
however high.
It occurred to him that where they were going on the Continent he might,
perhaps, procure a little amusement for her; there might be a dance or
two at the hotels at which they would stay; or he might take her to one
of the big state balls for which there would be no difficulty in
obtaining an invitation.
Yes, he thought as he watched her--her lips half parted with a smile of
intense enjoyment, her eyes shining with the light of youth and
ignorance of care--she should have a happy time of it or he would know
the reason why; he would simply devote his life to watching over her, to
screening her from every worry, to----
"Are you staying in the house, Mr. Blake?"
It was Sir William who had toddled up and addressed the reflective
guest. Sir William never knew exactly how the house party was composed;
and sometimes a man had been staying at the Grange for a fortnight
without Sir William comprehending that the man was sleeping beneath his
roof.
"No? Beg your pardon! I should have liked to show you my Herefords
to-morrow morning. I think you'd admire 'em; they're the best lot I've
had, and I ought to do well with them at the show. But perhaps you don't
take an interest in cattle-breeding?"
"Oh, yes, I do," said Drake pleasantly, and with his rather rare
smile--he was brimming over with happiness and would have patted a
rhinoceros that night, and Sir William was anything but a rhinoceros.
"Every man ought to take an interest in cattle-breeding and
horse-breeding. I did a little in the latter way myself." He pulled up
short. "I shall be very glad to come over to-morrow morning, if you'll
allow me."
"Do, do!" said Sir William genially, and evidently much gratified. "But,
look here, you'll have to come over early, because I've got to go and
sit on the bench, and shall have to leave here soon after ten. Why not
come over to breakfast--say, nine o'clock?"
"Thanks!" said Drake; "I shall be very glad to."
At this moment Lady Maltby came up to them with a rather anxious
expression on her pleasant face.
"I can't think what has come to the Chesney party, William," she said.
"I didn't expect them very early, but it's getting rather late now. Do
you think they've had an accident?"
"Not a bit of it!" returned Sir William cheerily. "They've had a jolly
good dinner, and don't feel like moving. Don't blame them, either.
Suppose we go and have a cigar, Mr. Blake?"
Drake glanced toward Nell, saw that she was surrounded, exchanged a
smile with her, then went off with Sir William to the smoking room. They
were in the middle of their cigars, and talking cattle and horses, when
Drake heard a carriage drive up.
"That's the Chesney people, I dare say," said Sir William, and
continued to dilate on a new rule which he was anxious that the
Agricultural Society should adopt, and Drake and he discussed it
exhaustively.
Nell had just finished a dance when she saw Lady Maltby hurry across the
room to receive four persons, two ladies and two men, who had just
arrived. It was the belated Chesney party. Their entrance attracted a
good deal of attention, and Nell herself was startled into interest and
curiosity by the appearance of one of the new arrivals. She thought that
she had never imagined--she had certainly never seen--so beautiful a
woman, or one so magnificently dressed.
A professional beauty in all her war paint is somewhat of a rara avis in
a quiet country house, and this professional beauty was the acknowledged
queen of her tribe. Her hair shone like gold, and it had been dressed by
a maid who had acquired her art at the hands of a famous Parisian
coiffeur; her complexion, of a delicate ivory, was tinted with the blush
of a rose; her lips were the Cupid-bow lips which Sir Joshua Reynolds
loved to paint. Naturally graceful, her figure was indebted to her
modiste for every adventitious aid the art of modern dressmaking can
bestow. Nell knew too little of dress to fully appreciate the exquisite
perfection of the _toilette de la danse_; she could only admire and
wonder. It was of a soft cream silk, rendered still softer in appearance
by cobweb lace, in which, as if caught by the filmy strands, as in a
net, were lustrous pearls. Diamonds glittered in the hair which served
them as a setting of gold. Her very gloves were unlike those of the
other women, and seemed to fit the long and slender hands like a fourth
skin.
"How beautiful!" she said involuntarily, and scarcely aware that she had
spoken aloud.
The man who was sitting beside her smiled.
"Like a picture, is she not?" he said. "In fact, I never see her but I
am reminded of a Lely or a Lawrence; one of those full-length pictures
in Hampton Court, you know!"
"I don't know," said Nell. "I've never been there."
"Well, you won't think it a fair comparison when you do see them," he
said; "for there isn't one of them half as beautiful as Lady Luce."
"What is her name?" asked Nell, who had not caught it.
He did not hear the question, for the music had struck up again, and
with a bow he went off to his next partner. It was evident to Nell that
the beauty was not known to Lady Maltby, for Nell saw the other lady
introducing them. Nell felt half fascinated by the new arrival, and sat
and watched her, looking at her as intently as one gazes at something
quite new and strange which has swung suddenly into one's own ken.
Nell was engaged for that dance, but her partner did not turn up. She
was not sorry, for she wanted to rest; the room was hot, and, though she
was by no means tired, she was not eager to dance the waltz--unless it
were to be danced with Drake. She was sitting not very far from the
window; some considerate soul had opened it a little, and Nell got up
and went to it and looked out. It opened onto a wide terrace; the stars
were shining brightly, the night air came to her softly and wooingly.
How nice it would be to go out there! Perhaps if she stole out, and
waited, presently Drake would come into the ballroom, and, missing her,
would come in search of her, for he would guess that she would be out
there, and they would have a few minutes by themselves under the starlit
sky. It was worth trying for.
She went out, without opening the window any wider, and leaning on the
stone coping, looked up at the sky, and then to where, far away, the few
lights which were still burning showed her where Shorne Mills nestled
amid its trees.
As long as life lasted she would never be able to think of Shorne Mills
without thinking of Drake; she thought of him now, and longed for him;
and as she heard the window open wider she turned with a little throb of
expectation. But instead of Drake's tall figure, two ladies came out.
Nell recognized the beauty by her dress, and saw that the lady who was
with her was the one who had accompanied her to the ball.
Nell's disappointment was so acute as to embarrass her for a moment,
and, reluctant, with a girl's shyness, to be found there alone, she
rather foolishly drew back quietly into the shadow accentuated by the
contrast of the light streaming from the half-open window. She retreated
as far as the corner of the terrace, and, finding a seat there, over
which she had nearly stumbled, she sank into it. Beside her was a marble
statue of the god Pan. The pedestal almost, if not quite, concealed her;
and, although she was already ashamed of having taken flight, so to
speak, she decided to remain where she was until the other two women
returned to the ballroom, or Drake came out and she could call to him.
Lady Luce went and leaned upon almost the very spot where Nell had
leaned; and she looked up at the sky and toward the twinkling lights,
and yawned.
"Sorry you have come, dear?" said Lady Chesney, with a little laugh. "I
know you so well that that yawn speaks volumes."
"It is rather slow, isn't it?" admitted Lady Luce, with the soft little
London drawl in her languid voice.
"My dear Luce, I told you it would be slow. What did you expect? These
dear, good people are quite out of the world--they are antediluvians.
The best people imaginable, of course, but not of the kind which gives
the sort of hop you care for. I'm sorry you came; but I did warn you,
dear, didn't I?"
"Yes, I know," assented Lady Luce.
"And, really, you seemed so bored--forgive me, dear; I don't want to be
offensive--that I thought that perhaps, after all, this rustic
entertainment might amuse you."
"I'm not bored, but I'm very sick and sorry for myself," said Luce. "One
always is when one has been a fool."
"My dear girl, you did it for the best."
"That always seems to me such a futile, and altogether ineffectual,
consolation," said Luce; "and people never offer it to you unless you
have absolutely made a fool of yourself."
"But I think, and everybody thinks with me, that you acted very wisely
under the circumstances. He could not expect you to marry a poor man.
Good heavens! fancy Luce and poverty! The combination is not to be
imagined for a moment! It is not your fault that circumstances are
altered, and that if you had only waited----"
Lady Luce made a little impatient movement with her hand.
"If I had only waited!" she said, with a mixture of irritation and
regret. "It was just my luck that I should meet him when I did."
There was a pause. It need scarcely be said that Nell was extremely
uncomfortable. These two were discussing a matter of the most private
character, and she was playing the unwelcome part of listener. Had she
been a woman of the world, it would have been easy for her to have
emerged from her hiding place, and to have swept past them slowly, as if
she had seen and heard nothing, as if she were quite unconscious of
their presence. But Nell was not a woman of the world; she was just Nell
of Shorne Mills, a girl at her first ball, and her first introduction to
society. She could not move--could only long for them to become either
silent or to go away and leave her free to escape.
"I suppose he was very much cut up?" remarked Lady Chesney.
"That goes without saying," replied Luce. "Of course. He was very fond
of me; or, why should he have asked me to marry him? You wouldn't ask
the question if you had seen him the day I broke with him. I never saw a
man so cut up. It made me quite ill."
"Then the love was not altogether on one side, dear?" said Lady Chesney.
Lady Luce shrugged her white shoulders in eloquent silence.
"Where did the dramatic parting take place?" asked Lady Chesney.
"Here," said Lady Luce.
"Here?"
"Well, near here. At a little port--fishing place, called--I forget the
name--something Mills."
"Oh! you mean Shorne Mills."
Nell's discomfort increased, and yet a keen interest reluctantly awoke
in her. It seemed so strange to be listening to what seemed to her a
life's drama, the scene of which was pitched in Shorne Mills.
"The yacht put in quite unexpectedly," continued Luce. "I didn't want to
land at all, but Archie worried me into doing so. We climbed a miserable
kind of steep place. I refused to go any farther. They went on, and I
turned into a kind of recess to rest--and found Drake there."
For a moment the name did not strike with its full significance upon
Nell's mind, and the soft voice had continued for a sentence or two
before she realized that the man of whom this woman was speaking, the
lover whose loss she was regretting, bore the same name as Drake. She
had no suspicion that the men were the same; it only seemed strange and
almost incredible that there should be two Drakes at Shorne Mills.
"I can imagine the scene," said Lady Chesney; "and I can quite
understand how you feel about it. But, Luce, is it altogether hopeless?"
Lady Luce laughed bitterly.
"You don't know Drake," she said. There was a pause. "And yet"--she
hesitated, and her tone became thoughtful and speculative--"sometimes I
think that I could get him back. He is very fond of me; it must have
nearly broken his heart. Yes; sometimes I feel sure that if I could have
him to myself for, say, ten minutes, it would all come right."
"Don't you know where he is?"
"No. There was a row royal between his uncle and him, and he
disappeared. No one knows where he is. It is just possible that he has
gone abroad."
"There is danger in that," said Lady Chesney gravely. "One never knows
what a man may do in a moment of pique. They are strange animals."
"You mean that he might be caught on the rebound, and marry some 'dusky
bride' or ruddy-cheeked dairymaid?" said Lady Luce, with a little laugh
of scorn. "You don't know Drake. He's the last man to marry beneath him.
If I were not afraid of seeming egotistical, dear, I would say that he
has known me too long and loved me too well----But there! don't let us
talk any more about it. The gods may send him to my side again. If they
do, I shall avail myself of their gracious favor and get him back; if
not----" She sighed, and shrugged her shoulders. "Heavens! how I wish I
had a cigarette!"
"My dear, you shall have one," said Lady Chesney, with a laugh. "I know
where the smoking room is. I'll go and get you one, you poor, dear
soul!"
She went in, and Nell rose from her seat. She could not remain a moment
longer, even if she had to tell this lady she had overheard their
conversation, and beg her pardon for having played, most reluctantly,
the eavesdropper. But as she stood fighting with her nervousness, a man
came out through the window. Her heart leaped with relief and
thanksgiving, for it was Drake.
"Is that you?" he said, as he saw the figure against the coping.
Lady Luce turned; the light streamed full upon her face, and he stopped
dead short and stared at her.
"Luce!" he exclaimed, in a low voice.
She stood for a moment as motionless as one of the statues. Another
woman would have started, would probably have shrunk back, with a cry of
amazement or of joy; but she stood for just that instant, motionless and
silent, and looking at him with her eyes dilating with surprise and
delight. Then, holding out both hands, she moved toward him, murmuring:
"Drake! Thank God!"